How I Realized I Was Depressed - Find Rehab Canada
This is How I Realized I Was Depressed
It all started with the fact that it bothered me to even think about doing my life’s regular activities. To continue with my normal routine. Going to work – even though I used to love it. And I didn’t want to go to work not because I wasn’t interested in it anymore (or anything like that!), but because I just wasn’t as excited about it as before. I remember when I was a teenager I dreamed of being an accountant because I said that it was some sort of superhero of the monetary part of companies (yes, something very peculiar and that nowadays I find funny). But it didn’t feel like “being a superhero” anymore; instead, it felt like just another day of work.
Whenever I had the chance, I slept when I was in my home. Why? Because I was tired. From work, from traffic? I have no idea, but I was always tired, although at the time I didn’t see it that way. However, that affected my relationship with my wife, because I no longer wanted to go out as much as before, I no longer wanted to do so many things with her, even if they were so simple and not demanding of large amounts of energy and effort, like watching a series together… and this wasn’t happening because I no longer loved her or anything like that, but simply because I was tired, I did not like to do the same things as before (even if they were my favorite), and in general because I felt… weird.
My wife asked me if I was okay when this behavior continued for about a month. I said yes, I was, because in itself I didn’t feel “bad” even though that’s how I realized I was depressed. It wasn’t like I was crying out of nowhere, or that I wanted to die. I just didn’t find excitement in things anymore, I preferred to sleep rather than do anything else, and I was very tired.
“Well,” she replied. “If you feel bad, just tell me, okay? And we’ll find a way to help you.”
“All right, love. Thanks for worrying.”
And how much I thanked her later for saying that! The week after that happened, a friend of many years called me and asked me why I hadn’t gone to another friend’s birthday reunion.
“Was it his birthday?” I asked, “No way! I don’t usually forget that sort of thing!”
“That’s why I thought it was strange that you didn’t go… I thought that what was happening to you must have been really serious, so I just wanted to check if you were fine.”
There was that question again. I sighed. “Eh, yes, I just forgot about it, I don’t know why. But thank you for being worried about me.”
I thought a lot about his words, because it wasn’t a coincidence that he told me that right after my wife had asked me if I felt “good” (in that specific way). I thought a lot about my actions, I asked myself a lot of questions, I meditated on what was happening to me… and I realized that no, it wasn’t right.
“Honey,” I told my wife on the last night of that week. “Do you remember what you told me recently, to tell you if I wasn’t feeling well?”
“Do you feel bad?”
“I feel… weird. As if I wasn’t myself, although it sounds very strange. And I just… don’t care about anything. Although I do care about you, and my friends, and I don’t mean to hurt them. But I just… I don’t know. It’s weird. I don’t know what’s happening to me or why.”
And she smiled. “All right, we’ll find a solution, but I think I already know what’s going on…”
We went to a psychiatrist. At first I didn’t want to, because it’s a very strong word (and from what you hear about psychiatrists… who treat people who are crazy), but I’m glad my wife convinced me. I explained to the psychiatrist what was happening to me, what I felt and thought, and he told me not to worry, that I was going to be fine.
He told me to exercise, eat better, do activities with people I loved and cared about, and gave me the appointment for the next session. After a few of these, in which I told him a lot of things I thought about and had no idea they affected me so much, he prescribed me antidepressants. After I began to take them, I noticed a great improvement in my life, my mood, and my attitude toward everyday things.
“I think you already knew you had depression,” the doctor told me at one of the follow-up appointments I had with him. “If you knew or suspected, why did it take you so long to come?”
And I felt like my eyes filled with tears. “There are… thousands of people in other countries living worse things than me. I have a job, friends, a wife who loves me, I don’t skip any food… It may sound silly, but I didn’t feel entitled to have depression when I have a life that could be considered good.”
“Happiness is much deeper and more complex than eating, dressing, and kissing someone,” he explained. “In addition, depression is sometimes caused by chemical imbalances in the brain. And those imbalances, believe it or not, aren’t always related to the social class or the country you live in. Depression is blind to these things.”
My life improved a lot thanks to the medications and activities the doctor recommended. Now I’m always reviewing my thoughts, talking to my wife and friends about how I really feel, and… yes.
I’m definitevely happier now.
If you feel the need to talk to someone, don’t hesitate to ask. There’s always a solution one conversation away.